


To the Arcadia

by Kalira



Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: (and some other things), Angst with a Happy Ending, Brooding, Fluff, Friendship, Harlock Is Very Out Of Practise At Feelings, M/M, Reunions, The Arcadia Has Opinions, Yama Belongs On The Arcadia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Harlock is brooding even more than usual of late; what might lift his spirits? Perhaps the return of one errant botanist? If only the Arcadia could locate one for him. . .





	To the Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zacekova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacekova/gifts).



> Written for a request from this [Super Sappy prompt list](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/post/167948259505/super-sappy-lines-prompt-list); I hope it's sweet and fluffy enough, considering Harlock's tendencies towards being a melodramatic brood-muffin. >.>
> 
> Original request [here](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/post/168268607384/19-i-cant-stay-away-from-you-for-harlock-and).

Harlock strode down the corridors of the Arcadia, the muted click of his boots meshing with the familiar low tick of the ship’s engines, rumbling away steadily. The few members of his crew he passed drifted out of his way like dry leaves.

The bridge was humming with human activity as well as the ever-present sound of the ship when he walked in, to the chorus of greetings from his crew.

He gestured to Yattaran, a prompt for a report, running his hands over the wheel in a greeting of his own as he listened. Not that he had actually missed anything - he had left the bridge long after Yattaran had gone to bed the night before, and now returned only a short time after he would have settled in at his station.

Harlock smoothed one palm over a worn grip and then turned away from the wheel, moving to his seat and settling into it. The ship hummed around him and the murmurings of the crew below floated up around Harlock. No one approached him, of course. Not even Miime, though Harlock could occasionally hear the rhythm of her muted steps blending in with the sounds from the engine.

Less than usual, he thought, but Miime and her patterns were inscrutable even to him, even after so long. Tochiro was the only one who had ever even somewhat understood the Niflung, any of them, Harlock thought wryly.

Their flight was smooth; they were currently traversing a largely deserted quadrant near the fringes of the galaxy. The Gaia Legion had other concerns at the moment, certainly bigger problems to tackle at home than to send ships out chasing the Arcadia, even more so when they were in such remote areas.

Harlock remained in his place on the bridge, chin braced on his hand, after the crew had finally filtered out, leaving only a single experienced hand watching their flight. The Arcadia didn’t need much looking after, and certainly wouldn’t take them off course - or into anything - if left without watching, but it never hurt to be cautious.

A gossamer touch ghosted over his shoulder, barely tangible through his cape and jacket, and Harlock sighed silently and looked up. Miime tipped her head, then let her hand fall and walked away, heading off the bridge. Harlock pursed his lips, then rose, his muscles creaking and protesting the sudden stretch for a few moments after his extended stillness, and followed her through the ship.

Miime settled into her chair in the saloon and waited as Harlock poured them both drinks and brought one to her. Harlock took his own seat, looking into his red brandy and humming thoughtfully, tilting the glass and letting the low light gleam through the rich colour. Miime was quiet for a time, and Harlock’s thoughts trod the same slow, familiar paths his mind had been dwelling upon much of the day. He sipped at his drink, lips quirking as he saw Miime already refilling her own glass.

Harlock had drunk many a bold human under the table, and walked away from it easily enough, but no one drank like a Niflung. He left her to it, lounging back in his chair in silence and only occasionally bringing his drink to his lips. He had nothing particularly to say, and preferred losing himself in his thoughts to speaking, when that was the case.

“Harlock.” Miime said eventually, suddenly, in what passed for harshness from her detached, dreamy tones. “You have been . . . pining. Stormy.”

Harlock stilled for a moment, then took another drink, glaring at her.

Miime, as always, was unmoved by such things. “You miss him.” Miime observed, downing the rest of her glass in a single graceful slide. “The boy. He didn’t belong here; he grew; he saved you - saved us all.” She gave what was almost a smile. “And now he’s gone, you miss him.”

Harlock swallowed, rubbing his thumb over the crystal of his glass. “Maybe.” he admitted finally, sighing, and finished off what was left in it.

Miime refilled it for him, but said nothing else, only returning to lounge in her chair, watching Harlock. He ignored her luminous gaze, well used to her, and unbothered by her staring at him - and not quite wanting to meet her gaze, either, after she had brought up a topic he had not really wanted to admit even to himself.

When Harlock finished his second drink, he bowed his head to Miime without meeting her eyes - she wouldn’t care, the Niflung had not had the same conventions for politeness humans did - and left her there alone. His feet turned towards the engine room without his conscious decision, and he smiled slightly as he walked inside and the engine ticked quietly in welcome.

“Hello, Tochiro.” Harlock said quietly, running his fingers along one of the thrumming conduits, making his way closer to the engine itself. He seated himself as the engine gave a low rumble and he sighed, remembering countless times finding a space out of the way in Tochiro’s lab so they could talk, or simply keep company, as his friend worked. Tochiro’s lab or his personal room, before they had made it to a ship, before they had risen high enough in the military for Tochiro to have his own lab - or for Harlock to have the position to grant him one.

A thin groaning sound and a familiar, only half-audible murmur through his mind, and Harlock snorted, patting the nearest bit of metal absently.

Absorbed in his thoughts and listening to his ship, Harlock almost missed the sound of a footstep approaching through the same door he had used. He rose and turned to see who had come - the crew didn’t venture here much, it would be unusual to see one of them here, and the step was certainly not Miime’s - then stilled.

“Yama!” Harlock’s eye widened. Yama smiled slightly, coming closer “What are you doing here?” Concern jack-knifed through him, though clearly at least Yama was unharmed. “Your lab, the planet where we left you-” he broke off, looking Yama over more carefully.

“It’s, ah- Everything is fine.” Yama said, shifting his weight. “That is- The plants were not doing very well, but I,” he sighed, frowning regretfully, “expected that. It was no worse than I had accounted for before I began work.”

“Then. . .” Harlock felt the brief flutter of an impulse to reach for Yama, which was strange, because he never reached for _anyone_. Harlock lived in an isolated space amidst the crew of the Arcadia, as though the Dark Matter irradiating his body had created a ‘sanctified zone’ around himself as surely as the Earth had been walled off.

“I. . .” Yama sighed, his mouth twisting into something like a regretful smile. “I wanted to work, and I thought there I could. . .”

Harlock nodded understanding, frowning. He had thought Yama had everything he needed to work on a proper botany lab - at least, as close as he could get without returning to the heart of Gaia Legion territory, which was . . . not currently possible, even with the upheaval they had triggered for the Council and the Imperial Father. Certainly a few more pieces of equipment could be acquired for his purposes, but the Arcadia could have done that and brought them to him, on one of their rounds.

“It was no worse than I expected, not for the plants.” Yama met his gaze. “ _I_ ,” he emphasised, “was not doing well.” he said ruefully. “I don’t think I belonged there. And I missed,” he gestured vaguely and then rested a hand on a metal conduit nearby, “the Arcadia, the crew. . .” He looked up at Harlock, licking his lips. “I missed you, Captain.”

Harlock’s stomach tightened and his gaze sharpened with surprise, but he didn’t speak.

“I can’t stay away from you.” Yama said, folding in on himself a little, and Harlock felt his heart _thud_ in his chest.

Harlock _did_ reach for him then, hand curling around his arm just above his elbow, and Yama looked up again, a slightly nervous look in his eye. “I didn’t want to leave you there.” Harlock admitted, swallowing. “I wanted to go back for you, once we had.” He smiled ruefully. “I wanted to bring you back, whether or not you wanted to come.”

Yama’s expression went nearly blank, his eye widening, and Harlock winced. “I wouldn’t have, I wouldn’t take away-”

“ _Harlock._ ” Yama said, and Harlock stopped, raising his eyebrows. “Did you really?” he asked tentatively, inching closer to Harlock, and he nodded, because he wouldn’t lie.

He was surprised when Yama closed the rest of the distance between them easily, wrapping his arms around Harlock, slipping under his cape, as though he had done it a hundred times before. Harlock’s breath caught, but he folded his arms around Yama’s slender waist in return, holding him close. Yama sighed and rested his head on Harlock’s shoulder, pressing close as though Harlock were the type of person people _got_ close to.

Cuddled up to, Harlock thought, as Yama rubbed his cheek there and left Harlock faintly wishing he weren’t wearing the heavy cape.

Really though, Yama had seemed almost not to feel the boundary that divided Harlock from . . . the rest of humanity, right from the beginning.

“Harlock?” Yama said, softer now he was speaking almost into Harlock’s collar. Harlock hummed an acknowledgement, one hand splaying wider over the small of Yama’s back. “For future reference, just in case. . .”

“Hn?” Harlock tentatively rested his head against Yama’s.

“If I ever leave again.” Yama said, hugging him tighter. “If I am foolish enough to try it again. You can always come after me, bring me back.” Yama lifted his head to meet Harlock’s gaze again. “To you, to the Arcadia. I belong here.”

Harlock smiled slightly, bringing one hand up and caressing Yama’s cheek. He smiled back, eye falling half-closed, and tipped his head into the touch, nudging closer. Harlock leaned forwards, then hesitated as he identified the impulse driving him.

He bowed his head and kissed Yama, gently, tentative.

Yama made a soft sound in his throat and then he tightened his arms around Harlock’s waist as he tipped his head up, returning the kiss.

Harlock brushed his knuckles over Yama’s face, sliding his hand down to cup Yama’s jaw as he angled his head and parted his lips

It had been a very long time since Harlock had kissed anyone. As he traced Yama’s lower lip with his tongue and then delved into his mouth when it opened around a soft moan, the feel of it was coming back to him.

Yama’s hands slid up his back and gripped at his shoulders, Yama pressing even closer against him, with a tiny demanding huff between their mouths. Harlock’s lips curled, and then he finally caught the sound of the Arcadia thrumming almost angrily. He broke away from the kiss, catching his breath and laughing at once.

“Harlock?” Yama asked, with some concern, his embrace loosening. Harlock kissed his nose and stroked his cheek, still chuckling.

“Arcadia may not let you leave again,” Harlock said, amused, tipping his head and glancing towards the engine, “even if I am ever,” he returned his gaze to Yama’s face, more serious, “foolish enough to do the same.”

Yama flushed slightly, but he smiled, his arms sliding from around Harlock and coming up to cup his face. Yama stretched up and kissed him again, lingering and shallow. “I’m okay with that.” he said against Harlock’s mouth. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Harlock folded an arm around Yama’s waist and deepened the offered kiss. Yama’s arms wrapped around his neck this time, acceptance and eagerness, using the hold to pull himself up and close against Harlock.

Arcadia rumbled again, but Harlock didn’t pay any attention to what his old friend had to say this time. Not right now.

The engine ticked and rumbled, and the doors to the engine room clanged shut, their inner wheels rotating to lock them in place.

Neither Harlock nor Yama noticed, as Yama gave a small, breathy sound and nipped at Harlock’s lip. He got a rich moan in reply, and then Harlock’s mouth softening to let him explore in return.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Missing scene - what Yama was doing in the engine room:**  
>  “Yama.”
> 
> Yama jumped, nearly dropping the flat of tiny - sadly mostly yellow - seedlings he held as he spun to face Miime. He had never stopped being startled by her, but then, everyone but Harlock himself seemed to be at least sometimes, so he supposed it wasn’t that bad.
> 
> “Ah. Miime.” Yama ducked his head to her politely.
> 
> Miime tilted her head, blinking slowly. “Welcome back.” she said softly, and Yama blinked, then smiled, biting his lip and looking down. “You should go to the engine room.” she said in her floaty, disconnected voice.
> 
> Yama’s brows drew together with confusion as he looked up again. “Why-” he broke off. Miime was gone. “Um.”
> 
> Yama looked down at the plants he held, taking them to the bay he had semi-converted to keep plants alive before he left. Then . . . he headed to the engine room.
> 
>  
> 
> Couldn't resist. >.>
> 
> Look me up on [Tumblr](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/) to see me talk fandom, say hello, or request a story!


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